


Smeagol's Birthday

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Kings, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smeagol, before he found the Ring.  Vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smeagol's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The sun was high enough to wink at the daisies and dance on the ripples of the river. Smeagol awoke, walked into the kitchen, cracked the eggs he'd stolen from a robin's nest the day before, and began to fry them on the stove. Today, he was ten.  


He always made two portions, one for himself and one for his grandmother. And washed the dishes and swept the floor afterwards, just as his grandmother liked it. And made the beds, both his and his grandmother's. And helped tend the garden, or fish in the river. 

Grandma awoke when the eggs were almost done and the table set, tablecloth and all, just as she liked it.   


"Good morning! So how does it feel to be ten, my little dear?" 

"Different. I'm big and dangerous now!" Smeagol leaped into the air, pretending to throttle someone with his bare hands until Grandma said, "Sit. Sit down."   


Grandma began to inspect the table-one spanking for every utensil out of place, or the tablecloth missing. She was from the old school, and said that work built character. It wasn't so bad, actually, once Smeagol knew the rules and knew what his grandmother would overlook. By now Smeagol was rarely spanked, but still felt intruded upon when his grandmother watched him. "Nice Grandma. Kind Grandma. Sweetest Grandma." 

It had been three years since Smeagol's parents, traveling to the nearest town to sell the gold jewelry they smithed, had drowned. His grandmother loved and cared about him, but the two gaping holes in his life still haunted him many nights. Sometimes, to try and patch them, he visited his aunt Gerta, his uncle Bob, and his cousin Deagol in their one-room house. They were poorer, but whenever Smeagol saw Deagol being snuggled by his parents he wished he could take Deagol's place. He sometimes imagined that living in a big smial with better toys more than made up for it, but knew he was only deluding himself. 

"I bought you a birthday present," said Grandma. It was a set of steel fishhooks, made by the best smith in town. 

Wouldn't Deagol be jealous the next time they went fishing together.  



End file.
